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FRILNDS   WITH    LINCOLN 

IN   THE 

WHITE    HOUSE.. 

ADAPTED    FROM 

NELLIE  BLESSING-EYSTER'S  STORY 

BY    HENRY    W.    WII^BUR 


PHILADELPHIA,    PA. 
1912 


FRIENDS  WITH  LINCOLN  IN  THE 
WHITE  HOUSE. 

i  During  the  Civil  War  there  lived  in 

5  Clinton    County,    Ohio,    about    fifty 

^  miles  northwest  of  Cincinnati,  Isaac 

*H  and  Sarah  Harvey.    They  were  of  the 

"^  conservative  type  of  Friends  of  that 

generation.     Isaac  was  a  man  often 

"moved"  to  do  what  seemed  to  his 

prudential  neighbors,   strange,   if  not 

foolish  things,  which  made  some  of 

them   call  him  the   "crazy   Quaker." 

But  he  was  also  a  man  who  did  not 

feel  "easy"'  in  his  mind  if  his  concerns 

could  not  be  translated  into  conduct. 

As    the    war    proceeded,    and    the 

cause  which  produced  it  persisted,  in 


the  summer  of  1862  Isaac  Harvey  de- 
veloped a  compelling  concern  to  visit 
Washington,  and  lay  the  burden  of  his 
mind  upon  the  heart  of  the  great  Pres- 
ident. In  1868  Nellie  Blessing-Eyster 
visited  the  Harveys,  and  the  story  of 
her  experience  was  first  printed  in 
Harpers'  Magazine  about  1874.  In 
1889  it  was  restated,  and  published  in 
the  New  Voice,  New  York.  The  quo- 
tations in  closer-spaced  type  are  from 
this  story,  although  we  have  taken  the 
liberty  of  supplying  the  real  names  in 
place  of  the  fictitious  ones  used  by  the 
author.  We  start  the  story  with  Nel- 
lie Blessing-Eyster's  meeting  with 
Isaac  Harvey  in  the  hallway  of  the 
Harvey  home. 


THE  EYSTER  STORY. 

I  crossed  the  threshold,  when  sud- 
denly, from  an  armed  chair  just  inside 
the  door,  there  arose  a  tall,  slender 
old  man,  who,  leaning  upon  his  cane, 
confronted  me.  His  appearance  would 
have  been  remarkable  any  where.  His 
dress  was  of  coarse  but  of  spotless 
white  linen,  the  only  bit  of  color  being 
a  narrow  black  ribbon  carelessly  knot- 
ted under  his  broad,  unstarched  collar. 
His  thin  hair  was  white  and  fine  as 
spun  glass,  a  few  locks  falling  over  his 
high,  unwrinkled  forehead.  His  com- 
plexion was  as  fair  as  a  girl's,  and  the 
facial  expression  intellectual  and  be- 
nignant. His  eyes,  however,  were 
concealed  by  green  goggles.  Such  a 
vision  of  majestic  old  age  instantly  ar- 
rested me.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  unexpected.    He  at  once  spoke. 


"Thy  footstep  is  that  of  a  stranger ; 
enter,  for  indeed  thou  art  welcome/' 
was  his  salutation. 

Upon  which  I  advanced  a  step  or 
two,  and  laid  my  ungloved  hand  in 
his  with  a  few  words  of  greeting. 

"Thy  hand  is  that  of  a  gentle- 
woman, and  thy  voice  is  low  and 
pleasant.  Be  seated  and  tell  me  who 
thou  art." 

"I  have  come  from  the  city  of  Har- 
risburg,  in  Pennsylvania,  to  visit  my 
sister,  Grace  Harvey.  I  went  with 
her  to  meeting  this  morning  and  was 
invited  home  to  dinner  by  a  lady 
whom  my  sister  calls  *Aunt  Sarah 
Harvey.'  Do  you  know  her?"  I  re- 
plied. 

"Yes,  I  do."  There  was  an  in- 
stant's pause,  when  he  said: 

"Thou  hast  come,  then,  from  the 
great  world  of  which  I  know  but  little. 

6 


God — ever  blessed  be  His  holy  name 
— has  seen  fit  to  take  away  my  sight, 
but  I  have  witnessed  the  coming  of 
the  Lord,  and  mine  eyes  have  seen  the 
salvation  of  a  people,  so  I  am  con- 
tent;" and  clasping  his  long,  well- 
shaped  hands,  his  lips  moved  as  if  in 
prayer.  My  emotions  were  alive. 
They  were  those  of  awe,  reverence, 
and  admiration  commingled.  His  ar- 
ticulation was  unusually  distinct, 
every  word  having  a  purity  of  finish 
which  would  have  been  marked  in  the 
diction  of  a  professional  elocutionist. 

Surely  this  could  not  be  Uncle 
Isaac,  even  though  he  was  in  a  certain 
sense  a  "little  queer.'*  Before  he 
again  spoke  Aunt  Sarah,  Rebecca 
and  my  sister  entered. 

*'Thee  got  here  first,  I  see,"  said 
Aunt  Sarah.  "Now,  dear,  thee  must 
feel  at  home.     Let  me  take  thy  hat. 


We  are  plain  people,  but  thee  and 
Grace  are  truly  welcome.  Hast  thou 
felt  lonely  this  morning,  father?"  she 
asked,  pushing  aside  the  stray  locks 
with  which  a  breeze  was  toying,  '*and 
did  thy  poor  eyes  pain  thee  much?" 
This,  then,  was  the  "crazy  Quaker." 
His  smile  was  perfect,  as  he  an- 
swered gently:  ''Oh,  no,  mother,  I 
forgot  my  eyes.''  His  words  came  to 
me  very  clearly :  "  Tor  our  light  afflic- 
tion, which  is  but  for  a  moment,  work- 
eth  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight  of  glory ;  while  we  look 
not  at  the  things  which  are  seen;  for 
the  things  which  are  seen  are  tem- 
poral, but  the  things  which  are  not 
seen  are  eternal.'  I  thank  thee  for 
bringing  the  young  stranger  home.  I 
will  enjoy  her  speech." 

*1  am  the  one  to  feel  grateful,  sir," 
I  replied  impulsively.     "I  have  trav- 

8 


eled  a  great  deal  in  my  life,  but  never 
before  been  in  a  place  like  this.  Every- 
thing charms  me,  and  I  am  glad 
of  the  privilege  to  just  sit  still  and 
hear  you  talk.  May  I  not  also  call  you 
'Uncle  Isaac?'" 

.  "Yes,  if  it  pleaseth  thee ;  but  thou 
must  not  flatter.  There  is  no  jewel 
like  unto  sincerity.  Thy  tones  are 
earnest.'' 

Aunt  Sarah's  kind  heart  was  sat- 
isfied. 

*T  see  thee  can  entertain  each  oth- 
er," she  said,  ''so  I  will  get  dinner. 
Grace,  thee  and  daughter  can  help 
me."  Uncle  Isaac  and  I  were  left 
alone. 

He  broke  the  silence  by  asking: 
"Hast  thou  seen  General  Grant  ?  Dost 
thou  think  him  a  good  man  ?  I  long  to 
hear  his  voice,  and  daily  pray  to  God 

9 


to  strengthen  his  hands  and  to  make 
him  worthy  of  the  great  work  to 
which  he  has  been  called." 

I  said  I  knew  him  only  as  the  sol- 
dier-statesman, but  I  felt  that  he,  per- 
haps, more  than  any  living  American 
would  perfect  the  grand  schemes  left 
unfinished  by  the  death  of  Abraham 
Lincoln.  At  the  mention  of  that  name 
the  old  man's  face  glowed  with  a 
beauty  almost  divine.  Every  fiber  in 
his  body  seemed  animated  with  new 
life.  Laying  his  hand  lightly  upon 
my  shoulder,  he  asked  in  a  voice  of 
suppressed  eagerness,  "Hast  thou  seen 
Abraham  Lincoln?'' 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "Once  I  stood  so 
near  him  while  he  addressed  a  multi- 
tude that  every  line  of  his  grand  face 
was  as  visible  to  me  as  is  yours.  It 
was  the  last  time  that  he  spoke  to  a 
crowd  as  Abraham  Lincoln,   citizen, 

10 


for  in  a  few  days  he  took  the  oath  of 
office  as  President  of  the  United 
States.  Once  again  I  stood  near  him, 
but  it  was  to  look  upon  his  coffined 
face  as  it  lay  in  state  in  the  Senate 
Chamber  of  Pennsylvania.  Did  you 
ever  see  him,  sir?*' 

I  asked  the  question  mechanically, 
for,  somehow,  nothing  seemed  to  me 
more  unlikely. 

"Ah,  yes,  yes;  and  a  sadder  face 
than  his  was  then  no  one  ever  looked 
upon." 

I  was  alive  with  curiosity,  and  ex- 
claimed, "Why,  Uncle  Isaac!  where 
was  he,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances?   Please  tell  me." 

"Perhaps  thou  wilt  not  sympathize 
with  me.  I  rarely  speak  of  these 
things  save  among  my  own  people. 
In  what  light  dost  thou  view  the  col- 
ored race?'' 

U 


The  freeing  of  the  slaves  and  the 
education  of  the  freedmen  had  long 
been  among  my  "enthusiasms,"  so, 
when  called  upon  to  ''rehearse  the 
articles  of  my  belief,"  I  did  it  so 
promptly  that  he  could  not  doubt  my 
sincerity. 

Folding  his  thin  hands,  his  face 
wearing  an  expression  of  sweet  grav- 
ity, and  his  words  coming  slowly  as 
if  he  was  weighing  the  value  of  each, 
he  said : 

"I  will  answer  thy  question.  My 
quiet  life  has  known  few  storms.  I 
have  loved  God  as  my  first,  best,  and 
dearest  friend,  and  He  has  ever  dealt 
most  tenderly  with  me. 

"During  the  first  years  of  the  great 
rebellion,  when  I  read  and  heard  of 
the  condition  of  the  poor  crushed  ne- 
groes, I  tried  to  think  it  was  a  cunning 

12 


device  of  bad  men  to  create  greater 
enmity  between  the  North  and  the 
South;  but  when  I  read  Lincoln's 
speeches,  I  thought  so  good  and  wise 
a  man  could  not  be  deceived,  and  then 
I  resolved  to  go  and  see  for  myself. 
At  one  of  our  First-day  meetings  I 
spoke  of  my  intention,  but  although 
the  brethren  felt  as  I  did  upon  the  sub- 
ject they  said  it  was  rash  for  me  to 
expose  my  life,  for  I  could  do  no  good. 
Nevertheless  I  went,  traveling  on 
horseback  through  most  of  the  South- 
land. 

"Often  my  life  was  in  danger  from 
guerillas,  but  there  was  always  an  un- 
seen arm  between  me  and  the  actual 
foe,  and  in  a  few  weeks  I  returned, 
saying  the  half  had  not  been  told  of 
the  sufferings  of  these  poor,  despised, 
yet  God-fearing  and  God-trusting  peo- 
ple." 

13 


Here  his  voice  trembled  with  the 
overflow  of  pity  of  which  his  heart 
seemed  the  fountain. 

"That  summer/'  he  continued,  "I 
plowed  and  reaped  and  gathered  in  my 
harvest  as  usual.  Day  by  day  I 
prayed,  at  home  and  in  the  field,  that 
God  would  show  his  delivering  power 
as  He  had  to  the  children  of  Israel. 
Nothing  seemed  to  come  in  answer. 
Occasionally,  during  the  beginning  of 
the  war,  news  reached  us  that  battles 
had  been  fought  by  the  Northern  men 
and  victories  won,  but  still  the  poor 
colored  people  were  not  let  go. 

"One  day  while  plowing  I  heard  a 
voice,  whether  inside  me  or  outside  of 
me  I  know  not,  but  I  was  awake.  It 
said :  'Go  thou  and  see  the  President.' 
I  answered:  'Yea,  Lord,  Thy  servant 
heareth.'  And  unhitching  my  plow, 
I  went  at  once  to  the  house  and  said 

14 


to  mother:  'Wilt  thou  go  with  me  to 
Washington  to  see  the  President?' 

"'Who  sends  thee?'  she  asked. 

'*  'The  Lord,'  I  answered. 

"  'Where  thou  goest  I  will  go/  said 
mother,  and  began  to  make  ready. 

•^My  friends  called  me  crazed;  some 
said  that  this  trip  would  be  more  fool- 
ish than  the  first,  and  that  I,  who  had 
never  been  to  Washington  and  knew 
no  one  in  it,  could  not  gain  access  to 
the  great  President. 

"The  Lord  knew  I  did  not  want  to 
be  foolhardy,  but  I  had  that  on  my 
mind  which  I  must  tell  President  Lin- 
coln, and  I  had  faith  that  He  who 
f  eedeth  the  sparrows  would  direct  me. 

"We  left  here  on  the  L^th  of  Ninth 
month,  1862,  the  first  time  mother  had 
been  fifty  miles  from  home  in  sixty 
years.  It  was  a  pleasant  morning. 
Before  we  left  the  house  we  prayed 

15 


that  God  would  direct  our  wandering, 
or,  if  He  saw  best,  direct  us  to  return. 
Part  of  our  journey  was  by  stage. 
Every  one  looked  at  and  spoke  to  us 
kindly.  Oh,  God's  world  is  beautiful 
when  we  see  the  invisible  in  it. 

*'\Ve  got  to  Washington  the  next 
evening.  It  was  about  early  candle 
light,  and  there  was  so  much  confu- 
sion at  the  depot  and  on  the  street 
that  mother  clung  to  my  arm,  saying : 
'Oh,  Isaac,  we  ought  not  to  have  come 
here !    It  looks  like  Babylon !' 

"  'But  the  Lord  will  help  if  we  have 
faith  that  we  are  doing  His  will,'  I 
replied,  and  we  walked  away  from 
the  cars. 

"Under  a  lamppost  there  stood  a 
noble-looking  man,  reading  a  letter. 
I  stepped  before  him  and  said:  'Good 
friend,  wilt  thou  tell  us  where  to  find 
President  Lincoln?' 

16 


''He  looked  us  all  over  before  he 
spoke.  We  were  neat  and  clean,  and 
soon  his  face  got  bright  and  smiling, 
and  he  asked  us  a  few  plain  questions. 
I  told  him  we  were  Friends  from 
Ohio  who  had  come  all  of  these 
weary  miles  to  say  a  few  words  with 
President  Lincoln,  because  the  Lord 
had  sent  us. 

''He  nodded  his  head  and  said,  'I 
understand.'  Then  he  took  us  to  a 
large  house  called  Willard's  Hotel, 
and  up  to  a  little  room  away  from  all 
the  noise. 

"  'Stay  here,'  he  said,  'and  I  will 
see   when    the    President    can    admit 

you.' 

"He  was  gone  a  long  time,  but 
meanwhile  a  young  man  brought  us 
up  a  nice  supper,  which  mother  said 
was  very  hospitable  in  him,  and  when 
the  gentleman  returned  he  handed  me 

17 


a  slip  of  paper  upon  which  was  writ- 
ten :  'Admit  the  bearer  to  the  chamber 
of  the  President  at  9.30  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning.'  My  heart  was  so 
full  of  gratitude  that  I  could  not  ex- 
press my  thanksgiving  in  words.  That 
night  was  as  peaceful  as  those  at  home 
in  the  meadows. 

"The  next  morning  the  kind  gentle- 
man came  and  conducted  us  to  the 
house  near  by  in  which  the  President 
lived.  Every  one  whom  we  met 
seemed  to  know  our  conductor  and 
took  off  their  hats  to  him.  I  was  glad 
that  he  had  so  many  friends.  At  the 
door  of  the  big  porch  he  left  us,  prom- 
ising to  return  in  an  hour.  'You  must 
make  your  talk  with  him  brief,'  he 
said.  'A  big  battle  has  just  been  fought 
at  Antietam.  The  North  is  victorious, 
but  at  least  12,000  men  have  been 
killed  or  wounded,  and  the  President, 

18 


like  the  rest  of  us,  is  in  great  trouble/ 
"I  did  not  speak.  I  could  not.  The 
room  into  which  we  were  first  shown 
was  full  of  people,  all  waiting,  we 
supposed,  to  see  the  President.  'Ah, 
Isaac,  we  shall  not  get  near  him  today. 
See  the  anxious  faces  who  come  be- 
fore us,'  whispered  mother. 

"  'As  God  wills,'  I  said. 

"It  was  a  sad  place  to  be  in,  truly. 
There  were  soldiers'  wives  and 
wounded  soldiers  sitting  around  the 
large  room,  and  not  a  soul  but  from 
whom  joy  and  peace  seemed  to  have 
fled.  Some  were  weeping;  soldiers 
with  clanking  spurs  and  short  swords 
were  rapidly  walking  through  the 
halls;  men  with  newspapers  in  their 
hands  were  reading  the  news  from  the 
seat  of  war,  and  the  President's  house 
seemed  the  center  of  the  world.    I  felt 

19 


what  a  solemn  thing  it  must  be  to  have 
so  much  power/' 

Here  Uncle  Isaac's  voice  got  husky 
and  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  upon  his 
wrinkled  hands.  I  reverently  brushed 
them  off,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  con- 
tinued : 

"When  the  summons  came  for  us 
to  enter — it  was  in  advance  of  the 
others — my  knees  smote  together,  and 
for  an  instant  I  tottered.  'Keep  heart, 
Isaac,'  mother  whispered,  and  we  went 
forward.  I  fear  thou  wilt  think  me 
vain  if  I  tell  what  followed." 

"No  fear,  Uncle  Isaac.  Pleace  pro- 
ceed." 

"It  seemed  so  wonderful  that,  for  a 
moment  I  could  not  realize  it.  To 
think  that  such  humble  people  as  we 
were  should  be  there  in  the  actual 
presence  of  the  greatest  and  best  man 
in  the  world,  and  to  be  received  by 

20 


him  as  kindly  as  if  he  was  our  own 
son,  made  me  feel  very  strange.  He 
shook  hands  with  us  and  put  his  chair 
between  us.  Oh,  how  I  honored  the 
good  man !    But  I  said : 

"  'Wilt  thou  pardon  me  that  I  do 
not  remove  my  hat?'  Then  he  smiled, 
and  his  grave  face  lit  up  as  he  said, 
'Certainly,  I  understand  it  all.'  The 
dear,  dear  man" — and  again  Uncle 
Isaac  stopped  as  though  to  revel,  as 
a  devout  nun  counts  her  beads,  in  the 
memory  of  that  interview. 

But  I  was  impatient.  "What  then, 
sir  ?"  The  answer  came  with  a  solem- 
nity indescribable.  My  curiosity  and 
his  reminiscence  were  not  in  harmony. 

'*Cf  that  half  hour  it  does  not  be- 
come me  to  speak.  I  will  think  of  it 
gratefully  throughout  eternity.  At  last 
we  had  to  go.  The  President  took  a 
hand  of  each  of  us  in  his,  saying,  T 

21 


thank  you  for  this  visit.  May  God 
bless  you.'  Was  there  ever  greater 
condescension  than  that?  Just  then  I 
asked  him  if  he  would  object  to  writ- 
ing just  a  line  or  two,  certifying  that 
I  had  fulfiilled  my  mission,  so  that  I 
could  show  it  to  the  council  at  home. 
He  sat  down  to  his  table. 

"Wilt  thou  open  the  drawer  of  that 
old  secretary  in  the  corner  behind  thee, 
and  hand  me  a  little  box  from  there- 
in?" 

Up  to  this  moment  I  had  not  no- 
ticed my  surroundings.  The  old-fash- 
ioned furniture  was  oiled  and  rubbed, 
and  a  large  secretary  which  belonged 
to  the  Colonial  period  was  conspic- 
uous. I  obeyed  instructions,  and  soon 
placed  in  the  old  man's  now  trembling 
fingers  a  small  square  tin  box  which 
was  as  bright  as  silver.  Between  two 
layers  of  cotton  was  a  folded  paper, 

22 


already  yellow.    The  words  were  ver- 
hatim  these : 

''I  take  pleasure  in  asserting  that 
I  have  had  profitable  intercourse  with 
friend  Isaac  Harvey  and  his  good 
wife,  Sarah  Harvey.  May  the  Lord 
comfort  them  as  they  have  sustained 
me.  Abraham  Lincoln.* 

"Sept.  19,  1862." 

"Uncle  Isaac  !"  I  exclaimed.  "I  can 
scarcely  realize  that  away  off  here  in 
the  backwoods  I  should  read  such 
words  traced  by  Mr.  Lincoln's  own 
hands.    How  singular !" 


*In  a  letter  to  H.  W.  W.,  Jesse  Har- 
vey, Isaac's  son,  thus  accounts  for  this 
precious  document:  "We  kept  the  writ- 
ing given  by  A.  Lincoln  for  years.  It 
was  borrowed  some  times,  and  finally 
was  so  soiled  we  concluded  it  would  not 
be  of  interest  to  any  one,  and  destroyed 
it  with  other  old  papers." 

23 


"Not  more  so  than  the  whole  event 
was  to  us,  dear  child,  from  the  first 
to  the  last.  The  following  Second-day 
the  preliminary  Proclamation  of 
Emancipation  was  issued.  Thank 
God!     Thank  God!" 

It  is  not  possible  to  depict  the  devout 
fervor  of  the  old  patriarch's  thanks- 
giving. 

"Our  new  friend  was  waitmg  at  the 
outside  door  when  we  came  out.  I 
showed  him  the  testimonial.  He  nod- 
ded his  head  affirmatively  and  said,  Tt 
is  well.' 

"We  soon  left  Washington,  for  our 
work  was  done  and  I  longed  for  the 
quiet  of  home.  Our  friend  took  us 
to  the  omnibus  which  conveyed  us  to 
the  cars,  having  treated  us  with  a 
gracious  hospitality  which  I  can  never 
forget.  May  the  Lord  care  for  him 
as  he  cared  for  us." 

24 


"Did  you  not  learn  his  name?"  I 
inquired,  wondering  what  official  in 
those  days  would  have  bestowed  so 
much  time  and  courtesy  upon  these 
unpretending  folk. 

*'Yes,  he  is  high  in  the  esteem  of 
men  and  they  call  him  Salmon  P. 
Chase." 

"Truly,"  I  thought,  'God  exalteth 
the  lowly,  and  they  who  trust  in  Him 
shall  never  be  confounded.'' 

In  the  published  diary  of  Mr.  Chase 
he  describes  the  eventful  Cabinet  meet- 
ing prior  to  the  announcement,  Mon- 
day, September  22,  1862.  The  Sunday 
morning  directly  succeeding  Uncle 
Isaac's  visit  Mr.  Lincoln  worked  upon 
the  Proclamation.  God  alone  knows 
to  what  extent  the  President's  long- 
desired  step  was  influenced  by  that 
half-hour's  visit  with  Uncle  Isaac,  but 
I  cannot  help  feeling  that  I  have  read 

25 


a  page  in  his  history  which  would  have 
been  sealed  but  for  my  unexpected 
meeting  with  that  precious  old  Qua- 
ker. 

I  have  repeated  our  conversation, 
word  for  word,  but  I  can  no  more  ex- 
press the  timbre  of  Uncle  Isaac's 
sympathetic  tones  than  I  can  arrange 
in  bars  and  notes  the  song  of  a  soaring 
skylark. 

We  pass  suddenly  from  the  poetic 
diction  of  Nellie  Blessing-Eyster,  to 
the  prosaic  confirmatory  facts  under- 
lying the  story.  There  are  two  very 
reliable  sources  of  information  along 
this  line,  represented  by  the  two  sur- 
viving sons  of  Isaac  and  Sarah  Har- 
vey. The  son  Jesse  lives  on  the  old 
homestead,    near    Clarksville,    Ohio. 

26 


The  son  William  resides  at  Americus, 
Kansas.  Jesse  has  no  doubt  that  the 
story  as  told  by  Nellie  Blessing-Eys- 
ter  is  substantially  as  she  received  it 
from  his  father. 

We  spent  two  days  in  the  company 
of  William  Harvey,  at  Indiana  Yearly 
Meeting  in  Eighth  month  last.  He  has 
many  of  the  evident  characteristics  of 
his  father,  although  he  strongly  re- 
sembles the  mother's  picture  to  be 
found  as  the  frontispiece  of  this  book- 
let. 

From  William  we  learn,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  that  his  father 
was  a  pronounced  antebellum  aboli- 
tionist, and  was  connected  with  the 
underground  railroad,  William  was 
living  at  home  when  Isaac  and  Sarah 

27 


made  their  visit  to  Washington,  and 
remembers  the  details  of  the  trip  as 
it  was  told  by  his  parents. 

Isaac  Harvey  does  not  seem  to  have 
told  Nellie  Blessing-Eyster  the  sub- 
ject matter  of  the  concern  which  took 
him  to  the  capital  and  the  White 
House.  William  says  that  his  father 
suggested  to  President  Lincoln  the 
advisability  of  stopping  hostilities,  on 
an  agreement  of  the  Government  to 
pay  to  the  owners  $300  for  each  man, 
woman  and  child  held  in  bondage  in 
the  country.  The  President  felt  sure 
that  such  a  proposition  would  not  be 
accepted  by  the  leaders  or  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  Confederacy. 

Compensated     emancipation,     how- 

28 


ever,  was  not  a  new  idea  for  President 

Lincoln.  In  Third  month,  1862,  he 
suggested  that  Congress  pass  a  joint 
resolution  providing  that  the  United 
States  co-operate  with  any  State 
which  may  adopt  gradual  emancipa- 
tion, to  the  extent  of  giving  pecuniary 
aid  to  any  commonwealth  which 
should  adopt  this  policy.  This  reso- 
lution passed  both  houses  of  Congress, 
but  no  practical  result  followed.  It  is 
well  to  remember  that  the  original  or 
preliminary  draft  of  the  Proclamation 
provided  for  the  compensation  of  all 
loyal  people,  on  the  close  of  the  rebel- 
lion, for  all  losses  incurred  by  them, 
including  the  loss  of  slaves. 

Whether    the    visit    of    Isaac    and 

29 


Sarah  Harvey  helped  to  hasten  the 

initial  draft  of  the  Emancipation  Pro- 
clamation is  a  question  which  must  al- 
ways remain  in  the  field  of  conjecture. 

But  one  thing  is  certain,  there  was  a 

very   sudden   and   rather   remarkable 

change  in  the  President's  mind  on  the 

subject.    This  followed  several  events 

which  came  in  rapid  order.     On  the 

19th  of  Eighth  month,  1862,  Horace 
Greeley  issued  his  famous  open  letter 

to  the  President,  entitled,  "The  Pray- 
er of  Twenty  Millions."  It  was  an- 
swered bv  the  President  on  the  22d, 
in  one  of  Lincoln's  most  terse  and  epi- 
grammatic utterances.  At  that  time 
he  did  not  see  that  a  vigorous  emanci- 
pation policy  on  the  part  of  the  Pres- 

30 


ident  would  be  wise  or  helpful.  On 
the  13th  of  Ninth  month  a  delegation 
from  Protestant  churches  in  Chicago 
visited  the  President,  and  vigorously 
urged  him  to  take  a  pronounced  stand 
for  the  overthrow  of  slavery.  Still  he 
was  not  convinced. 

On  the  19th,  three  days  later,  the 
Harveys  were  at  the  White  House, 
and  on  the  22d  the  country  was  elec- 
trified by  the  preliminary  draft  of  the 
Emancipation  Proclamation  being 
flashed  over  the  wires. 

Such  was  the  order  of  events  lead- 
ing up  to  one  of  the  epoch-making 

acts  in  human  history.  Remembering 
how  responsive  Lincoln  was  to  the 
finer  and  deeper  motives  and  emotions 
of  the  human  heart,  it  is  not  hard  to 

31 


believe  that  the  visit  of  Isaac  and 
Sarah  Harvey  came  to  the  Great  Pres- 
ident as  a  sort  of  spiritual  revelation, 
confirming  the  external  events  and  in- 
ternal leadings  which  caused  President 
Lincoln  to  make  the  final  decision  in 
the  case  as  he  did  and  when  he  did. 

In  any  event,  the  story  as  told  by 
Nellie  Blessing-Eyster  is  worth  pre- 
serving for  its  portrayal  of  the  light 
and  leading  of  a  Friend  who  repre- 
sented the  spirit  of  an  older  time,  and 
also  for  its  connection  with  Abraham 
Lincoln,  now  being  considered  the  typ- 
ical, if  not  the  First  American. 

Copies  of  this  booklet  can  be  had  for  five 
cents  each,  post  paid,  by  addressing  Henry 
W.  Wilbur,  140  North  15th  Street,  Phila- 
delphia, Pa. 

32 


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he 


